


Dust in the Sunlight

by Clicks



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, DON'T BE FOOLED, Enthusiastic Beverly, F/F, Hannibal is Hannibal, Jealous Hannibal, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Photographer Hannibal, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Social Media, Will Graham & Beverly Katz Friendship, no really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-22 11:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clicks/pseuds/Clicks
Summary: Hannibal Lecter is an esteemed photographer who has just had a rather public breakup with his fiancée, Alana Bloom. Will Graham is a reclusive mechanic with a crush. Their paths have no reason to cross, and yet they do.





	1. Chapter one.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the asshole who keeps starting stories, knowing I never finish anything longer than a chapter. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a few months now, so maybe this can be a first. I don't actually have anything more than a general idea planned out, so it'll be an adventure for all of us.
> 
> Also, if you've read any of my other works, you should know that just because this is an AU and Hannibal isn't eviscerating people, doesn't mean it's not going to be angsty. If I can't murder someone in a story, I'm definitely going to make them suffer.

This is how Will Graham’s weekend nights tend to go. He gets off work, picks up some greasy fast-food on his way home, then locks himself away from the world to get blackout drunk. Beverly, his single friend, has become his sort of unofficial weekend caretaker. She calls him steadily through the night, and Will answers until his fingers and mouth refuse to cooperate. Were it anyone else, he would ignore the calls. He tried that once with Beverly, and it ended with her pounding on his door at nearly three in the morning. She cursed at him, as if it were _his_ fault that she had to make the two hour drive to his isolated little house, and then had made herself comfortable, and told him to pour her a drink.

Will could admit that it had been nice, drinking with someone other than the dogs, for once, but the guilt he had felt at seeing his best friend standing on his porch in her pajamas made sure that from that point forward, he would answer all her texts and phone calls.

 

He’s at the ‘pleasantly warm’ stage when he gets the first call from Beverly. She’s nearly incoherent with excitement, and Will wonders for a moment if she’s not imbibing as well.

_“Will! Did you hear the news?”_

“News?”

_“Your big, gay crush is single now!”_

Will has, rather embarrassingly, in his opinion, been harbouring a crush on the same man for most of his adult life. He made the mistake of telling Beverly, and after laughing at him for a solid ten minutes, she decided it was her duty to keep Will updated on everything the man did, good and bad.

_“Apparently, he and his fiancée just broke up. She was cheating on him with some rich lady. Talk about messy, huh? Anyway, that’s all I had to tell you. I’ll check on you again in a few hours. See ya!”_

Beverly hangs up without giving him a chance to respond, and Will looks at his phone in silence for a moment, and then looks over at his dogs. Several of them have woken up at the sound of his phone ringing, but fall back asleep almost immediately, giving Will a disapproving once-over.

Had Will been a little more sober, this information would have been filed away in his mind, but otherwise forgotten. As it is, the bourbon he has been steadily working his way through is finally hitting him, and he finds himself scrolling through images of himself on his phone, trying to find a photo that portrays him in the most flattering light.

Most of the pictures are out of focus, or have him covering his face and frowning at the person on the other side of the camera, which is always Beverly, of course. Will has never been one for taking pictures of himself, but Beverly is insistent that he at least have a few. _“What if someone kidnaps you for your devilishly attractive body. We need to have an updated picture of you!”_

Will ultimately settles on the one candid shot Beverly had managed to sneak of him, one that she claimed made him look “rugged and handsome.” He pulls up one of his social media apps, also Beverly’s idea, and, before his mind can catch up with him, uploads the picture.

 

The sombre notes of _Les Gymnop_ _édies_ filter through the house. Hannibal wanders as if a ghost, looking at the empty, chaotic rooms where Alana has quickly removed any evidence of her having ever lived there. He sits in the drawing room, lights dim and a glass of rosé in hand.

He supposes he should have seen this coming; Margot had always held some type of magnetic charm, and Alana was completely helpless to resist. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He had been across the country for a shoot, and had returned to find his house in a state of disarray, Alana nowhere to be found. There was only one place the woman could have been, and the brief flash of hurt that fluttered in his chest at the sight of Alana’s car parked outside the Verger estate had surprised him, only for it to be immediately replaced by anger when his fiancée walked outside, Margot’s hand placed protectively at Alana’s waist.

 

_“Alana. Would you please explain what is going on? Why have you removed the furniture in our home?”_

_Alana sighs. “Hannibal, don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you. You and I both know this has been coming for a while.”_

_Hannibal takes a step forward, and sees Margot tense, pulling Alana closer to her side._

_“Have I done something wrong? This seems rather drastic.”_

_“No, you’ve been wonderful. You’re everything I could have ever wanted in a man, in a fiancé. Any woman would be happy to have you as a husband.”_

_Hannibal waits, silent, eyes locked onto the two women before him._

_Alana sighs again, and continues, “I can’t explain it, Hannibal. Margot is just like no other person I’ve ever met. I was lost the moment you introduced us.”_

_Hannibal looks at Margot, who has been a silent spectator the entire time. She gazes back at him coolly, face carefully blank of any emotion. Dimly, Hannibal is aware of the ever-present presence of the paparazzi. He grimaces at the thought of this entire altercation being splashed across the cover of every trashy tabloid, and on the homepage of every celebrity gossip website._

_“So, I suppose this is it, then.”_

_Alana looks at Hannibal sadly, eyes glistening with unshed tears._

_“I still love you, Hannibal. I hope we can remain friends, even after this.”_

_Hannibal does not respond, and turns to walk back to his car, steps heavy and mind blank._

Hannibal is abruptly pulled from his memories by the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket. His eyes narrow when he sees a notification saying that he has been tagged in a photo.

_And so it begins._

He unlocks his phone and opens the app, bracing himself for whatever insulting caption awaits him, only to see that the picture is not of him, at all. Nor is it of Alana or Margot, or anything relating to the three of them.

In the picture, he sees a young man, smiling bashfully at the camera while he shields his eyes from the sun. There is a smear of black on his cheek and on his hands. _Oil,_ Hannibal’s mind supplies helpfully, judging from the remains of what appears to be a boat in the background. His shirt clings to his body, translucent in parts from sweat, and his curly brown hair is in disarray. Hannibal’s trained eye takes this all in in an instant, and he immediately assumes it’s yet another aspiring model hoping to win a lucky break by catching his eye. He’s close to exiting the app when he reads the caption, and he lifts an eyebrow, lips quirking slightly.

_Screw Alana. Date me instead._

Hannibal is more amused than annoyed by the impudence of the man, and so he clicks on his username and begins browsing through his photos. Many of them are of various boats or fishing rigs, and many, many dogs, but interspersed are pictures of the man himself. Hannibal notes that they all appear to be candid, not a single one showing the stiff lifelessness of a posed photo.

Hannibal takes a sip of his wine as he returns to the original photo.

_Date me instead._

He smiles.

 

Will wakes up with a dry mouth, and a splitting headache. He stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom, rummaging through the cupboards for aspirin. When he walks into the living room, he’s greeted by a chorus of barks and the sounds of a multitude of heavy tails thumping against the hardwood flooring.

“Sorry I woke up so late, guys. Come on, let’s go out before breakfast.”

He pushes open the front door, and the dogs rush out into the morning sun. Will winces when the light hits his eyes, and watches the animals for a few minutes before he goes back inside to fill their bowls. He’s moving to call them back in when he sees his phone laying on the ground near a bookshelf, light flashing to alert him of a pending notification. He groans, but moves to retrieve the device, opening it to see what he missed while he was asleep.

He nearly drops the phone when he unlocks it and sees a picture of himself with the caption, _Screw Alana. Date me instead._ He vaguely remembers Beverly calling him to tell him about Hannibal and Alana’s breakup, and, mortified, he sees the likes on the photo. Far more than he normally receives.

_Please, please, tell me I didn’t tag someone in this._

Will feels like melting into the ground when he sees that he tagged both Hannibal _and_ Alana in the photo. His embarrassment reaches a peak when he realises that he has several unread messages within the app. The previews seem harmless enough, just strangers telling him that he looks cute, with a few insulting him for insulting Alana. The oldest message, however, makes him freeze, staring at the phone in horror. He forces himself to open it, and he nearly drops his phone in shock.

“Holy shit.”


	2. Chapter two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, my apologies.

“Do you think it’s a joke? Maybe he got hacked.”

“But he’s still posting photos and hasn’t mentioned being hacked anywhere else.”

Will has been awake for several hours now, stomach too filled with knots to even try to sleep off the rest of his hangover. He called Beverly and asked her to come over an hour ago, and the two are currently huddled together on his couch. The dogs are sprawled in various areas around the room, snoring happily or staring at the two humans who are staring at Will’s phone as if it will come to life and explain everything.

Will had explained the situation to Beverly in shocked tones, and she had laughed, telling him it was probably someone trolling him, adamant until he pulled up the message on his phone, exclaiming, “See! Have a little faith, Bev; I think I can tell when someone is trying to trick me.” Beverly had grabbed the phone, eyes widening as she read the message on the screen, and then she burst into another fit of laughter.

“Wow, Will, you really lucked out, huh? Well, are you gonna respond?”

“Are you crazy? Hell no I’m not going to respond!”

Will flinches at the glare Beverly levels at him. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, yeah, I was drunk, sorry. Please forget I exist!’”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “Or,” she says, drawing out the word, “You could take him up on the offer. What’s there to lose?”

“I don't know, my sense of privacy, maybe? It’s not like the man’s constantly surrounded by paparazzi, or anything.”

“What, camera shy? You’re handsome enough that I’m sure they’ll go easy on you. I’ll come with you and be your bodyguard, if that would make you feel better.”

Will gives a small huff of laughter, giving his friend an amused look, “Don’t try to act so altruistic; I know you just want free food.”

Beverly’s laughter rings throughout the house. “Hey, that’s just a bonus. Think of it as my consultation fee.”

 

Hannibal is in the middle of searching for furniture to replace what Alana has taken when he receives the message. He excuses himself from the antique store he has found himself in, telling the owner and his wife, “ _Gardez-vous ce canapé, s’il vous plaît. Je vais retourner le dimanche,_ ” to which he gets an enthusiastic, “ _Mais oui!_ ”

Once outside, he stands in the shade cast by the building, and looks down at his phone, smiling slightly as he sees the notification saying he has a new message from one Will Graham.

_I guess I’ll take you up on your offer, but I want to bring my friend with me. Famous or not, I’m not meeting you by myself, sorry._

The man’s bluntness impresses Hannibal, and he types out a quick response before walking to his car. He appears to be completely nonplussed by Hannibal’s social status, for which Hannibal is silently grateful. As he drives, he makes a mental note to look up some information on this Will Graham. Hannibal is unfamiliar with the name, although he does recognise the small repair shop that the man appears to own. The building is located towards the centre of town, and Hannibal has passed it countless times during his commutes, never giving it more than a passing glance. He flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. The coming weeks are looking to be very interesting, indeed.

 

The scene in Will’s living room has not changed much; Beverly is still looking at Will’s phone every time he gets any type of notification, while Will himself is standing on the front porch, watching the dogs as they run around the yard. He whistles at them when they appear to be roaming a bit too far away from the house, still not feeling quite well enough to play with them the way they want him to. He herds them all back inside a few minutes later, and walks to the kitchen to refill their water bowls, glancing over at Beverly, who has his phone held in a death grip.

“What is it now, Beverly?” He asks on a sigh, bending over to place the bowls on the ground. When she doesn’t respond, he straightens up and walks to the couch, looking over Beverly’s shoulder and reading the phone screen.

“Huh. Do you know where that restaurant is? I’ve never heard of it.”

Beverly turns around, dropping the phone and rolling her eyes at Will, “Really, Will? It’s that fancy one right beside the gallery. I’m surprised you don’t remember it; they shut down that main road and backed up traffic for a fucking month.”

Noticing the panicked look on Will’s face, Beverly continues, “Don’t worry about finding an outfit; I’ll take care of that for you. I’m sure you have _something_ suitable in your closet.”

“You have a lot more faith in my fashion sense than I do.”

Beverly smiles brightly and stands, stretching tall and giving a satisfied gasp as her back pops audibly. “I’m going to go home and pack a bag for tomorrow, and then I’ll come back and we’ll figure out what you’re going to wear, okay? In the meantime, go take a shower. You smell like whisky and dog.”

Will throws Beverly a middle finger as he begins to walk upstairs, trusting her to show herself out. He’s at the top of the staircase when he hears the click of the front door closing, and looks out a window just in time to see Beverly’s car speeding off down the driveway.

Alone again, Will slides down the wall and buries his face in his hands. _What have I gotten myself into?_ _I can’t go on a date with Hannibal Lecter! I need to call this off before I make an idiot of myself._

Will gives an anguished sigh into his fingers.

“ _Fuck._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Est-ce que vous-pensez que Hannibal veuille utiliser l’inversion ? Formal asshole.
> 
> I'm going to try to update at least semi-regularly, but you really should expect about once a month updates, unless I'm feeling particularly motivated.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at cisthulhu.tumblr.com.


End file.
